Othello (Folio 1, 1623)
Not Peer Reviewed
¶
Actus Quartus. Scena Prima.
2370
Enter Othello, and Iago.
2375Iago. Or to be naked with her Friend in bed,
¶An houre, or more, not meaning any harme?
2380The Diuell their vertue tempts, and they tempt Heauen.
¶But if I giue my wife a Handkerchiefe.
¶Oth. What then?
¶Iago. Why then 'tis hers (my Lord) and being hers,
2385She may (I thinke) bestow't on any man.
¶May she giue that?
¶They haue it very oft, that haue it not.
2390But for the Handkerchiefe.
¶As doth the Rauen o're the infectious house:
¶Boading to all) he had my Handkerchiefe.
2395Iago. I: what of that?
¶Who hauing by their owne importunate suit,
¶But they must blab.)
2405No more then he'le vn-sweare.
¶Iago. Why, that he did: I know not what he did.
¶Othe. What? What?
¶Iago. Lye.
2410Oth. With her?
¶Iago. With her? On her: what you will.
¶when they be-lye-her. Lye with her: that's fullsome:
2420kerchiefe? O diuell.
Falls in a Traunce.
¶Iago. Worke on,
¶My Medicine workes. Thus credulous Fooles are caught,
¶And many worthy, and chast Dames euen thus,
2425My Lord, I say: Othello.
¶
Enter Cassio.
¶Cas. What's the matter?
¶Cas. Rub him about the Temples.
¶If not, he foames at mouth: and by and by
2435Do you withdraw your selfe a little while,
¶He will recouer straight: when he is gone,
¶How is it Generall? Haue you not hurt your head?
2440Iago. I mocke you not, by Heauen:
¶Would you would beare your Fortune like a Man.
¶And many a ciuill Monster.
¶Iago. Good Sir, be a man:
¶Thinke euery bearded fellow that's but yoak'd
¶May draw with you. There's Millions now aliue,
¶That nightly lye in those vnproper beds,
¶Oh, 'tis the spight of hell, the Fiends Arch-mock,
¶To lip a wanton in a secure Cowch;
¶Iago. Stand you a while apart,
¶Whil'st you were heere, o're-whelmed with your griefe
¶Bad him anon returne: and heere speake with me,
¶The which he promis'd. Do but encaue your selfe,
¶And marke the Fleeres, the Gybes, and notable Scornes
2465That dwell in euery Region of his face.
¶For I will make him tell the Tale anew;
¶Where, how, how oft, how long ago, and when
¶He hath, and is againe to cope your wife.
¶And nothing of a man.
¶I will be found most cunning in my Patience:
¶But yet keepe time in all: will you withdraw?
¶Buyes her selfe Bread, and Cloath. It is a Creature
¶To be-guile many, and be be-guil'd by one)
¶He, when he heares of her, cannot restraine
¶
Enter Cassio.
¶Quite in the wrong. How do you Lieutenant?
2490Whose want euen killes me.
¶Now, if this Suit lay in Bianca's dowre,
¶Cas. Alas poore Caitiffe.
2495Oth. Looke how he laughes already.
2500Oth. Now he importunes him
¶Do you intend it?
¶Cas. Ha, ha, ha.
2505Oth. Do ye triumph, Romaine? do you triumph?
¶Some Charitie to my wit, do not thinke it
¶So vnwholesome. Ha, ha, ha.
2510Iago. Why the cry goes, that you marry her.
¶Cas. This is the Monkeys owne giuing out:
2515She is perswaded I will marry her
¶Out of her owne loue & flattery, not out of my promise.
¶uery place. I was the other day talking on the Sea-
2520banke with certaine Venetians, and thither comes the
¶Bauble, and falls me thus about my neck.
¶ports it.
¶Cassio. So hangs, and lolls, and weepes vpon me:
2525So shakes, and pulls me. Ha, ha, ha.
¶shall throw it to.
¶
Enter Bianca.
¶What do you meane by this haunting of me?
¶Bian. Let the diuell, and his dam haunt you: what
2535did you meane by that same Handkerchiefe, you gaue
¶me euen now? I was a fine Foole to take it: I must take
¶out the worke? A likely piece of worke, that you should
¶finde it in your Chamber, and know not who left it there.
¶it, Ile take out no worke on't.
¶How now? How now?
¶you will not, come when you are next prepar'd for.
Exit
¶Iago. After her: after her.
¶ry faine speake with you.
¶Cas. Prythee come: will you?
¶Iago. Did you perceiue how he laugh'd at his vice?
¶Oth. Oh, Iago.
¶Oth. Was that mine?
¶hath giu'n it his whore.
¶Oth. I would haue him nine yeeres a killing:
¶A fine woman, a faire woman, a sweete woman?
2570perours side, and command him Taskes.
¶Iago. Nay, that's not your way.
2575teous wit, and inuention?
¶And then of so gentle a condition?
¶Iago. I too gentle.
2580Othe. Nay that's certaine:
¶But yet the pitty of it, Iago: oh Iago, the pitty of it
¶Iago.
¶pattent to offend, for if it touch not you, it comes neere
2585no body.
¶Iago. Oh, 'tis foule in her.
¶Oth. With mine Officer?
¶Iago. That's fouler.
¶uide my mind againe: this night Iago.
¶Euen the bed she hath contaminated.
2595Oth. Good, good:
¶You shall heare more by midnight.
¶
Enter Lodouico, Desdemona, and Attendants.
¶'Tis Lodouico, this, comes from the Duke.
¶See, your wife's with him.
¶Lodo. Saue you worthy Generall.
2605Othe. With all my heart Sir.
¶Lod. The Duke, and the Senators of Venice greet you.
¶Des. And what's the newes, good cozen Lodouico?
2610Welcome to Cyprus.
¶Iago. Liues Sir,
¶Des. Cozen, there's falne betweene him, & my Lord,
¶An vnkind breach: but you shall make all well.
¶Des. My Lord?
¶Othe. This faile you not to do, as you will---
2625Des. What is he angrie?
¶Lod. May be th Letter mou'd him.
¶For as I thinke, they do command him home,
¶Deputing Cassio in his Gouernment.
2630Othe. Indeed?
¶Des. My Lord?
¶Othe. Diuell.
¶Lod. My Lord, this would not be beleeu'd in Venice,
¶Make her amends: she weepes.
¶Othe. Oh diuell, diuell:
2640If that the Earth could teeme with womans teares,
¶Each drop she falls, would proue a Crocodile:
¶Out of my sight.
¶Lod. Truely obedient Lady:
¶Des. My Lord.
¶Othe. What would you with her, Sir?
¶Lod. Who I, my Lord?
¶Sir, she can turne, and turne: and yet go on
¶And turne againe. And she can weepe, Sir, weepe.
¶Very obedient: proceed you in your teares.
¶I am commanded home: get you away:
¶Ile send for you anon. Sir I obey the Mandate,
¶And will returne to Venice. Hence, auaunt:
2660I do entreat, that we may sup together.
¶You are welcome Sir to Cyprus.
¶Goates, and Monkeys.
Exit.
¶Lod. Is this the Noble Moore, whom our full Senate
¶Call all in all sufficient? Is this the Nature
¶The shot of Accident, nor dart of Chance
¶Could neither graze, nor pierce?
¶Iago. He is much chang'd.
¶What he might be: if what he might, he is not,
¶I would to heauen he were.
¶Lod. What? Strike his wife?
¶Or did the Letters, worke vpon his blood,
¶And new create his fault?
¶Iago. Alas, alas:
¶And marke how he continues.
